Distractions. Part 7

The engine of the small rental started to idle a little higher while sitting in the parking lot. The heat cranked up full blast as steam coated the inside of the windows, creating a visible barrier to the freezing world outside. The thermostat read fifteen degrees Fahrenheit; with the wind, it felt much worse a the kind of cold that sinks into your bones and only a hot bath can remedy.

"Some night for a bikini contest," I thought to myself.

It was a night not unlike this one when I first took to that stage. However, it was humidity causing a fog on the winds.h.i.+eld as the cold blasted from the air conditioner back then. It all started with my co-worker, Taylor, from the diner I worked at, telling me in a whisper while stacking heavy ceramic plates full of food on a tray that she made seven hundred dollars the previous Sat.u.r.day. Waiting tables was good money for an eighteen year old; granted it was hard work and I smelled horrible at the end of each s.h.i.+ft, but it was better than a drive thru.

"How did you make that much money?" I was highly curious, and jealous.

She remained quiet the rest of the night until we were starting on our side work. Heading towards a booth in the back of the restaurant, we hauled racks of silverware and packets of napkins to roll for the next morning. Looking around to make sure no one was within earshot, she leaned forward to me and motioned with her eyes for me to pay attention.

"I went to the bikini contest at the Front Street Cabaret and I won, so they offered me a job. I got to keep all the bills that were given to me during the dance and my winnings were five hundred bucks."

My eyes turned into saucers with my mouth gaping open at the same time. "You're a stripper now?" I could not believe what came out of my mouth.

A slightly sour look came over her face. "It's not what you think, Vy, and it's a really nice place. No poles, there are security guards, and a killer sound system."

I don't know who she was trying to convince more about it, me or her. She went back to placing the forks and knives horizontally in the napkin before swiftly rolling it with her palm in one fell swoop.

"It's so easy. You just dance, which we do every weekend at the clubs anyways. You just get paid a lot for it."

My nose twisted up as my eyes squinted in thought. "Yeah, but what about the greasy dudes? I don't think I could do it."

Shaking my head, I reached over for another pack of napkins. I wasn't in a hurry to finish like most nights, but I couldn't believe Taylor and I were having this conversation. I knew a little bit about the place, Connor liked to go there occasionally with his buddies. His friends dated a few of the girls, who all happened to be idiots, in my opinion.

"You should do it, Vy. You are gorgeous, you can move, and I know you would be good at it. Besides, I really like working with you."

A tinge of sadness crossed her eyes as she looked down at the pile of rolled silver.

"You're quitting, aren't you?" I said flatly.

Sucking in a deep breath and giving a pause, she finally brought her eyes back to mine. This time they were full of determination. "I told Gary this was my last s.h.i.+ft. I start at the club Wednesday. I only have to work two nights now and I will be able to focus on school." Summer had just started and here she was already thinking about the fall. "Think about it, Vy." And just like that, the subject was changed to where we were going out that weekend. It didn't matter, though. The seed had been planted.

The week had pa.s.sed without much fanfare; it was actually a lot harder at work without Taylor there. We were swamped as impatient customers waited longer and longer for service. Gary tried his best to help keep everyone calm during the rush, but understanding staff shortages was not their concern. All I could do was keep a smile plastered on my face and haul a.s.s as best as I could. My arms were starting to develop welts from the hot plates I stacked four deep.

Several hours later, I was by myself in the booth wrapping silverware. I had to pick up where Taylor had left us hanging, and it was too much. After counting my tips, I had made two hundred and thirty dollars. Under most circ.u.mstances, I would be thrilled, but I busted my a.s.s for over twelve hours for that. It was only ten-thirty pm. My legs ached and I was covered in splattered food. Taylor had sent me a text that read.

"12:30, shower and shave. See you, hot stuff."

I closed the cover on my phone and let out a deep breath. I reached for the edge of the table, sliding myself out of the booth. After a quick walk through and shutting off the lights, I knocked on the office door. Gary was inside, counting down the till while listening to talk radio. He was obviously frazzled. He waited until he was finished with the stack of bills in his hands before acknowledging me.

"Here's my bank a it's all there. I will see you tomorrow."

Without even looking up, he reached his hand out and motioned for me to hand it to him. Setting it down next to him, he picked up another stack and started sliding the money from one hand quickly to the other. No "thanks", or "good job", not even "okay". Pausing for a moment, I waited. Finally speaking, all I got from him was, "Need something?"

Pursing my lips tightly together, I shook my head slightly. "No, I'm good."

I turned and walked towards the back door. The jerk didn't even make sure I was safe walking to my car. After scoping the parking lot to ensure no one was around, I ran quickly to my spot. Locking the doors, I opened up my phone to the last text. "See ya, doll face," I replied.

Chapter 14 - Skeletons.

I reckoned myself to what could possibly take place tonight if I walked in those doors after all these years. No one would recognize me, and if Frankie Pazaletto still ran the place, I could drink in relative peace. Last time I was here, women were generally prohibited from entering alone, but considering it was Friday night and the website said it was still the monthly bikini contest, I was not too worried.

The large security guard at the entrance gave me a smile as I walked past the door he opened for me. I could hear the ba.s.s pounding loudly as soon as my car door opened; now it was rattling my bones. The no smoking policy had a group of men sitting in a special lounge designed for them. Smart a give them what they want, but make it so they don't wander off too far. As I approached the reception booth, the young girl with teased hair and an orange tan was playing on her smart phone and chewing gum.

She looked up at me briefly. "ID and twenty-five for cover."

I smiled while reaching into my clutch. "I'm actually here to see Frankie. Is he around?"

Looking annoyed, she grabbed the walkie talkie off to her left. My eyes followed the hot pink acrylic nails that curled around the sides, pressing in the b.u.t.ton which made a sharp pitched noise as she yelled, "Frankie, some one's up front here to see you."

Static sounded for a few moments before we heard his curt reply. "Who is it? I'm busy, Sam."

Looking back at me, she waited for my answer. "Tell him it's Starla."

The name rolled off my tongue like honey. I hadn't said it in so long. I remember I picked it in a hurry because "Sparkle" or "Tina" sounded too crazy and too plain. Some girls picked names of cities or flowers. I was always curious why someone chose the moniker they did.

"She says her name is Starla." More static came back loudly.

"Holy s.h.i.+t, send her in. I'm at the bar." Frankie seemed ecstatic that I was there.

The girl nodded towards the doors and another security guard. "I a.s.sume you know where you're going?"

With a few more smacks of her gum, she went back to playing on her phone. Not even bothering to focus anymore on how badly I wanted to slap this dumb girl, I turned on my heels and headed into the cavernous room. Lasers danced from the rigs hooked above the catwalk stage. Brilliant lights twisted and turned in vivid patterns across the s.p.a.ce. Small tables sprinkled the bottom floor while the mezzanine was lined with more tables that sat opposite from VIP booths reserved for special dances. A long dimly lit bar lined the wall to my right. There were two flights of steps on each side of the stage, leading to the dressing room and DJ booth behind it, with other flights of curved steps going up to the top level.

Everything looked the same. Girls wandered to the patrons in small pieces of fabric covering their b.r.e.a.s.t.s and bottoms. A few were in the middle of doing dances. I knew most of the crowd was here for the contest. There were unfortunate boys who suckered their girlfriends into signing up, hoping for a quick shot at some easy money. Others were slightly older women with raised libidos, looking for kicks. Some were drug addicts hoping to find a sugar daddy or at least fund their habits. Then there were those who happened to be too naive for their own good and girls pretty enough with low self-esteem and ears sensitive to the seduction of the demon whispers.

I walked to the end of the bar where I could see Frankie unloading a few bottles of vodka from a cardboard box onto the illuminated stands against the wall. The other bartenders were scrambling to get the servers orders filled, as the crowd of people grew larger. I leaned against the bar until he turned around. He knew I was here so it was only a moment.

Frankie Pallatzo was probably in his late fifties now. He still had a thick head of pepper gray hair and a mustache with a goatee. He spoke with a thick New York accent. Gold rings were on almost all of his fingers, and you never wanted to p.i.s.s him off. He must have felt my eyes burning into the back of his black and red bowling s.h.i.+rt as he turned around. With a grin that lit up his whole face, he shouted to the girl next to him who was pouring shots.

"Take over a I'll be back." With her nodding in understanding, Frankie looked back at me and grabbed a bottle of Hendricks off the top shelf and two gla.s.ses, which he filled with ice.

Ducking under the bar, he motioned for me to follow him up behind the stage. With the two-way mirrors, you couldn't tell, but his office looked down on the entire floor. At any given time, he could see every girl, every patron, and all activities backstage, too. Frankie ran a tight s.h.i.+p. With the exception of the girl at the reception desk, nothing appeared different. The room was noticeably quieter once he shut the door. The windows still shook, but enough insulation was in the walls that I did not have to shout. He placed the gla.s.ses on his desk and reached his arms out widely for a hug.

"Greet all your old girls like this, Frankie?" I asked with a smirk.

His laugh was deep and genuine. "No, doll only those who make an impression."

With a quick wink, he made me feel a bit better. Pouring the gin into the gla.s.ses, I couldn't wait to taste the smooth liquid as it flowed over my tongue and down my throat.

"I am surprised you remembered I liked this." I grinned and truly was shocked. He must have had thousands of girls walk through those doors.

Handing me my gla.s.s, he clinked them together.

"You know I wasn't twenty-one, yet, right?"

A knowing expression grew over his face as he let out a deep laugh "Like I said, an impression. Here's to old friends."

"Gratzie," I replied and then closed my eyes to drink deeply.

He coughed to catch my attention. "So what do I owe the honor of this visit?" he asked while sitting on the long modern leather sofa and tapped the seat next to him.

"I know you're not here for a job, but oh how I would love to see you dance. And my girls, they would be walking on eggsh.e.l.ls for months afterwards."

With a raised eyebrow, I took another sip. "Get me drunk enough and you might just get your wish."

A somber look came over his face. "What is it, baby doll?"

You would think a man who ran this kind of business would not have a compa.s.sionate bone in his body, yet the two months I worked here, I managed to worm my way into his heart. Perhaps because I simply showed up, was sober, and made him a ton of money.

"You know you told me that people come here because they are paying for an illusion? I'd like to buy a ticket, please."

He sat in contemplation, letting me have my moment. He understood, because I understood; there was nothing to say. He broke the silence with another chuckle. "So if I get you drunk enough, you would dance tonight?" The light returned in his eyes as they s.h.i.+fted over me.

"Frankie, I don't have anything to wear. And I'm certainly not showing off my t.i.ts!" I couldn't help but grin in return.

"Seriously, you know that isn't an issue. I have enough booze to sedate an army, and a wardrobe full of clothes for you to pick something out. Please let this old man die happy." I breathed out heavily, still laughing. "Starla, how about instead of watching the show, be the show tonight. Just one dance, for old time's sake, and give these brats a run for their money."

I set my drink on the gla.s.s coffee table and stretched my arms above my head, looking at him as if he were crazy. His pupils dilated in antic.i.p.ation of my answer. Maybe this is what I needed. I could forget, just for one night that everything was falling apart. I wouldn't be completely naked. It would be just like at the beach, except with h.o.r.n.y men screaming and throwing dollar bills at me. And there it was, the song of the siren playing in my ears, luring me into the dark waters.

"Let's do it!"

The Madame was none too thrilled with Frankie's hairball scheme, knowing she would be dealing with a house full of angry girls. She couldn't contest his orders, so she gave me free reign over the costumes they sold. I had forgotten how comfortable a pair of four inch Lucite heels could be, and how d.a.m.n s.e.xy you feel walking in them. Since I wasn't competing for the money, I chose a very simple black and white string bikini and a tight little sequined tube dress to cover up in. I had already flat ironed my long brown hair poker straight and had on enough makeup. A little gloss to catch the light and I was good to go.

"You're forgetting something", the madam coughed while handing me a cheaply made garter belt.

"Oh yes, the badge of wh.o.r.edom, how silly of me," I replied smartly.

Ignoring my remark as if she didn't hear me, I slipped the piece of lace up my leg.

Feeling the ribbon crackle in my hand, a new thought surfaced in my mind. This was a modern day scarlet letter. This was why some women couldn't ever move past this; they carry it as though it were really them and not just a bad choice. I knew how lucky I was. Even in this moment, the spark was still screaming at me.

As I peered out from the stage entrance, I noticed a girl waiting for the contest, shaking in her boots. She was beautiful, but you could tell she was beyond freaked out. Her long blond hair was set into soft waves that tumbled down her back. She must have been around five foot two. Her eyes paced frantically around the room as she chewed on her nails, looking for direction.

I gave Jimi the DJ a song I wanted to dance to, and since I was last, I had some time to kill. I decided to approach the girl who was now walking to sit up in the VIP area with a few other girls. She could not see me come up the stairs since her back was facing me. I gently tapped her on the shoulder, which caused her to jump. I smiled brightly and reached out my hand.

"Hey, I am Starla. I am doing a special dance tonight and I was hoping you could help me with it."

She looked around nervously while still holding onto my hand.

"Me?" she whispered.

I nodded approvingly and motioned for her to follow me. The other girls stared her down viciously at the special attention she was receiving.

"What's your name?" I yelled while walking down the steps, carefully holding onto the rail to prevent tumbling down.

"Kinzey," she shouted back.

Leaning back slightly with a turned head, still making my way down, I yelled over my shoulder. "That's your real name or your stage name?"

She stopped and looked bewildered. "My real name, why?"

I smiled and pulled her up to the DJ booth. "Jimi, cross Kinzey off the list." They both instantly looked at me strangely.

"What do you want your stage name to be? Don't ever use your real name; you will have a life after this."

"Um, um, um." Her eyes danced around hoping for inspiration to strike quickly.

"Oh I know, Reese!"

I pursed my lips together at the boring name then turned back to Jimi. "Put down Reese, please."

After he saluted us both, we walked back to another area of the floor closer to the ladies room where it was a little less packed, smiling and flirting with the boys along the way. I stopped to watch the girl who was currently on stage. I understood what Frankie meant now. There was no performance in how they moved. It was a.s.s jiggle, strut, strut, squat for a dollar, shake your t.i.ts and the same routine again. Most of them also had personalities as dry as the Sahara desert. True, men were not looking for a rocket scientist, but if you couldn't make them buy into the show, you were just wasting their money and losing out on making yours. My focus turned back to Reese.

"How old are you?"

Her fidgeting started again. "Eighteen, ma'am".

Blowing out a deep breath, I muttered, "Lord, help me!"

"Look, I am going to have you do something very simple that will win you this contest. You are far prettier than any of the others tonight, and they have no idea what the h.e.l.l they are doing. I just want one favor in return."

She was soaking in all the information I was giving her, eager to get her hands on some cash. "Yeah, what do I need to do?"

"I am going to do my dance and at the end, I am going to give you a signal to walk towards the stage. I am going to lie down on my back and lift my head all the way so I can see behind me. You are going to have a dollar bill folded in your mouth, which you will pa.s.s to me like a kiss. We won't actually touch lips. You need to hold your mouth there for a moment and take your hand and run it from my stomach up to my neck very slowly. It will drive the entire crowd wild. Smile and wave shyly at the men as you turn around to find your seat again. I will blow you a kiss, and that is it. Are you okay with that?"

A huge smile covered her face, than dropped suddenly. "What if I don't win?"

Looking at her seriously, my heart broke. "I will personally give you the five hundred dollars. Either way, you must promise me to leave here tonight and never return. Whatever you are going through is temporary. Don't add this to your list of issues."

I could see the tears well up in her eyes as my gaze held them steady. I knew Frankie would kill me if he knew I betrayed him like this, much less had girls bawling their eyes out in his club. I cracked the biggest smile I could muster and chirped.

"Come on, let's go. It's show time!"

I grabbed her hand and pulled her up the stairs to cross on the mezzanine, which made it easier to get around. The place was getting packed wall to wall with people. I decided to be useful and stood at the bottom of the stage, a.s.sisting the girls up and down the stairs for their turns. Frankie was behind the bar, smiling like an idiot at me. I had only had one drink, the atmosphere being a different form of intoxication.

Reese's turn was up next. She chose an upbeat country song for her rotation. It was appropriate. I could see her confidence as she walked around the stage, doing small twirls. Nothing s.e.xy, but the crowd was still eating her up. One more girl was on the roster before my turn. The adrenaline started to course through my veins. I needed a shot to calm my nerves, or maybe two. I was able to manage my footing quite well, despite the length of time it had been since I wore them last.